


Inevitability

by TheAbominableToaster



Category: Homestuck
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-30
Updated: 2013-01-30
Packaged: 2017-11-27 13:13:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/662389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheAbominableToaster/pseuds/TheAbominableToaster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Did it count as being lonely, when you couldn’t feel any sorrow?<br/>Did it still hurt, when your heart didn’t technically exist?<br/>Were you allowed to think this way, when this was all meant to be?</p><p>Questions were what you took up your time with now. What else was there to do, beyond thinking and planning, endless thoughts to chase away the time that ironically wished nothing to do with you?<br/>Well… there were a few other ways to spend your time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Inevitability

**Author's Note:**

> Bear with me on the pesterlog's appearance - I haven't quite figured out how on earth to use the skins. Any help would be greatly appreciated.

“Aradia, I’m sorry…” How many times had you heard him say those words? It was like his mantra, a chorus that he barely even realized. He didn’t try to care, didn’t summon up the will. But there he was, crying again. 

You were just as cut up, but no-one could tell.

How could they? You were dead, after all. 

But even though you’d tried countless times, and failed, you still could never quell that small spark of hope that fluttered in your chest every time you reached for something, praying to a joke of a god for a solid touch. 

Every time - every damned time - you’d always pass through, as though you didn’t mean anything to the world anymore.

“Sollux, I’m here…” you’d say, like you always used to.  

He would feel your hand on his shoulder, turn around, and a smile would dawn on his face, as bright as the Alternian sun but so much more beautiful. The tears would stop, and in time, maybe they’d never come back. That’s what you hoped for, and what played out in your mind every time you reached towards him.

But instead, your hand would pass through his shoulder, and you would pull it away, saying words that he wouldn’t be able to hear. 

 

Once, you nearly lost yourself. You screamed, you cried, you shouted. You tried to pick up the bee-hives that he still kept in his room, and to destroy them.  

Fuck the timelines, fuck inevitability, fuck everything that was dictating your death and not just letting you die in peace. The whispers in your mind rejoiced, the only ones who paid your actions any heed. Destroy it, you may as well. What’s the difference going to be to the world if these stupid, stupid things were broken?

Unsurprisingly, you couldn’t touch them. _You don’t exist, remember?_ You just passed through, a whisper of wind, a touch of cold. 

Your screams had been drowned out by the ones in his head, by the dreams where he could pick and choose which spare life to lead.

It’d been a joke between the two of you, but you could barely recall how it went. 

 

You tried to fly away, to leave all this suffering that you were unable to cry about behind you, to try and fix the gaping hole in the heart that nobody else could see.

An existence alone is better than one where no-one could see you.

You flew about the ruins that had once given you joy, but you couldn’t summon up any of that past now. Destroying things became your only solace, as you heard through whispers of voices what had been happening in the world that you were torn away from.

You still had your computer with you, in the futile hope that you could say something to someone - anyone - to just let them know that you still existed. But what would they say, when they found out you were nothing more than a spirit? Another voice of the dead to haunt your own head twice as strong as before.

Hope had been the last thing you could cling to, and even it had slipped through your fingers.

Then, a new day dawned. Figuratively, of course. You found that instead of passing through the circuits of the computer, you could summon up enough concentration to type words, to force yourself to be solid. To play at being alive, even for just a moment.

The first person you talked to was Sollux.

 

\-- apocalypseArisen [AA] began pestering twinArmageddons [TA] at ??:?? --

**AA** : hell0 s0llux

**TA** : what the hell?

**TA** : 2o, you’ve found a new way two haunt me.

 

Sollux was bitter, resentful, finding someone to take out all his anger on for the ages of suffering inflicted on him. He didn’t feel anything for you anymore. At least, that’s what he told himself. 

It hurt you (in theory).

But you kept talking. After a while, it wasn’t just to Sollux.

You could see that you angered people, scared people, alienated them further away from you every time you did. They wondered what was wrong with you behind your back, but you heard them. You were there every time to hear when they said your name, with fear or worry or indifference. There was no in-between.

At one point, Terezi said you were ‘broken’, that whatever Vriska had done to you was something that shattered you to pieces. You wish you could say it was all you could do not to laugh, but that would be a lie.

 

Why didn’t you just stop trying?

Because you were alive when you talked to them, and you intended to stay that way.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, folks and gentry.  
> To all, a good night.


End file.
